


Water Speaketh To Me

by queenmidalah



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe- Elemental Magic, F/M, Fígrid February, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmidalah/pseuds/queenmidalah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigrid's unique ability brings her to Ravenhill. How will this change the fate of the line of Durin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water Speaketh To Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been demanding to be written for some time, but I just couldn't get it to cooperate until recently. I had hoped to focus on a couple other things to get done, but this one wouldn't let me.

An ache formed behind Sigrid of Dale's eyes as the battle waged on. She closed her eyes and behind her lids, she can see Ravenhill clearly. Below her she can see two dwarves and the hobbit, all of whom she met in Laketown. One is the King of the Dwarves himself, Thorin Oakenshield. The other is the bald one, Dwalin. She can feel a grip at the back of her neck, her legs dangling, her arms flailing slightly as she attempted to rid herself of the hold. 

"Go," she whispered. _"RUN!"_ Pain flared from her back that doubles Sigrid over until she is on her knees, gasping. She feels slightly detached as hands grip her upper arms. Pain radiated throughout her head as she forced her eyes open. She can see her father's face swimming in her vision.

"Sigrid, darling?" Bard asked his daughter, his brow furrowing. The last time he had seen such a vacant expression had been when she was barely twelve and she had fallen unconscious, claiming she had taken a club to the head.

She had been alone within the house without anyone near to have attacked her in such a manner.

"Take me to Ravenhill," Sigrid whispered.

"Ravenhill? No, there is no--," Bard started to say. He stopped when Sigrid gripped his arm, fisting her fingers into the sleeve of his tunic.

"Now!" she all but bellowed.

Bard saw the blue in her eyes deepen, even taking over the whites of her eyes. The water was speaking to her clearly, even in the frozen form it had taken. Taking her up to Ravenhill… something was calling her to the water there, but it terrified him all the same as he knew that was where that foul leader of the orc army had based himself. Hadn’t he heard that the dwarves headed up there?

“Da,” Sigrid said, her voice sounding like the rush of waves that lapped at the edges of the shore in a storm. “Take me to Ravenhill.”

_Valar help me,_ was all Bard thought as he took Sigrid’s hand and led her towards Ravenhill.

## 

♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦

“If more people... valued home above gold... this world would be a merrier... place…” Thorin’s last breath was leaving him as he spoke to Bilbo. Before Bilbo could speak, Sigrid was sliding to her knees beside them.

“Wh…” Bilbo started as Sigrid pulled back the edges of Thorin’s tunic. His eyes widen when she pulled snow from near Thorin’s head and pressed some to the mortal wound through his chest, then placed some along the slice on his face.

“Bard, what--.” He paused in questioning the bargeman, whose eyes were riveted on his eldest daughter. Bilbo turned his attention back to the girl. He fell back away from Thorin as the snow began to glow a pale blue and melt into him, Sigrid’s hands emitting the same light blue glow as did her eyes, her lips moving as she murmured something.

Thorin gasped, his eyes finding life once more. The slice to his cheek sealed shut, leaving the blood and dirt, but the skin unscathed. His eyes darted back and forth, a warm burn flowing through him as the wound that should have killed him healed. He noticed Bilbo, then Bard, even Dwalin as the warrior came down the steps, eyes wide with shock as he saw his king alive. Thorin’s eyes finally snapped to Sigrid, who sat back, her eyes fading.

“Where are the others?” Sigrid questioned. 

“Fíli didn’t make it,” Thorin said, coughing. “We need to find Kíli.”

Sigrid’s brow furrowed. Her eyes shifted and she rubbed at her chest, looking up to the cliff where she could see long, red hair.

“Da,” she said. “Take me.” She pointed to where she saw Tauriel on the cliff.

## 

♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦

“Why does it hurt so much?” Tauriel whispered. 

“Because it was real,” Thranduil said. He turned his head away when Tauriel leaned down to press a kiss to Kíli’s lips. His scimitar was pulled from its sheath as he spun, hearing footfalls approaching. He frowned as Bard and Sigrid came around the corner, shortly followed by the halfling, Dwalin, and Thorin, who he thought had been slain by Azog.

“What is going on?” Thranduil asked. Bard shook his head as Sigrid ran over to Kíli’s prone form.

As she did with Thorin, she gathered what snow she could find, placing it over the wounds she could see, the largest being through the young Prince’s chest. Tauriel gasped as she watched Sigrid’s eyes and hands glow their soft pale blue. It took slightly longer, as life barely still clung to Kíli as he lay on the cliff, cradled in the elleth’s arms.

Soon, Kíli was gasping for breath, his eyes snapping open as he looked up at Tauriel’s face. Shock skittered through her eyes as she looked from Kíli to Sigrid. Her eyes narrowed as she saw exhaustion within the hazel blue depths once the pale light faded. She also noted how the dark blonde brushed her hand along the underside of her nose, wiping the small amount of blood that had slipped from her nostril.

“Kíli,” Thorin whispered, moving over to his nephew. He was barely aware of Sigrid rising and walking to the nearest cliff hang, her hand dipping into the snow amongst the jagged rock. Bard watched his daughter, seeing her absorb the snow into her skin. He frowned when he saw her lifting her head to look towards the ramparts and higher cliffs.

“Uncle… I’m sorry,” Kíli whispered. “I shouldn’t have left him… I…”

“Sigrid, no!” Bard yelled.

Kíli sat up with a painful groan, Thorin spinning to the bargeman for his outburst. They both saw where he was looking, turning to Sigrid. Before Bard could stop her, Sigrid was already racing up the steps towards the higher cliffs where they knew Fíli lay.

## 

♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦

Sigrid knew that she would be able to race up to the higher cliffs and ramparts of Ravenhill ahead of anyone else and get to work. While the water was frozen into ice and snow, it still gave her power that allowed her to race as quickly as she could up here to begin. Despite what Dwalin had said, she could sense life still bleeding out into the snow, the water having spoken to her about its ward.

She slowed as she approached Fíli’s prone form. Even worse than Thorin or Kíli, she knew it would take more than she had within her to give. It didn’t matter to her, she knew she needed to give everything she could to saving him.

Snow had already blanketed the dwarrow some. Sigrid gathered more of the falling powder and covered his wounds with it. Kneeling beside him, she took his glove off of his hand, taking it within her own so she had skin to skin contact. Resting her other hand on his forehead, her eyes closed and she began working the magic she had within to heal the wounds Fíli had sustained.

Barely aware of the pounding footsteps that finally approached, she focused completely on Fíli, bringing life back into his too still form. The small spark was growing stronger with each beat of her heart. Calming her breaths, she counted beats in her head until Fíli’s heart was beating in time with hers. Pain was forming behind her eyes as her body strained to release the necessary magic to heal the dwarf prince.

“Sigrid,” Bard said, fear gripping him as he watched his daughter. As they had approached, the snow had begun to swirling around the young woman and Fíli. Before only her eyes and hands had glowed when healing Thorin and Kíli, but now she glowed, as did Fíli, as she poured everything she could into healing him. Panic sliced through the bargeman when he saw blood flowing down Sigrid’s face from her nose and the corners of her eyes. She had never used her power this strongly before and her body was collapsing.

A large flare of light emanated from Sigrid as Fíli’s back arched and he gasped loudly as he was restored to life and health. He grunted when the light was just as quickly snuffed as Sigrid’s body gave out and she collapsed across his chest.

“No!” Bard yelled, running over to his daughter. He was quickly followed by Thorin and Kíli. At some point when they had raced after Sigrid, Gandalf had joined them.

“Her power has completely drained her,” Gandalf said, resting a hand against her forehead. “She will die if we do not do something.”

“What does she need?” Thorin questioned, looking at Bard.

“Water,” Bard said, his voice rough. “Hot water preferably, she will be able to absorb it faster to keep her organs from collapsing from all of the magic she expelled.”

“Is she strong enough to make it to Erebor?” Thorin asked Gandalf.

“If she is taken on a battle goat or horse,” Gandalf said.

Thorin looked at Bard. “Let me take her,” he said. “There are hot springs within the mountain. I know exactly where they are. Dwalin does as well. He will lead you all to the mountain and to the springs, but I will take the fastest goat and take her to the springs.”

Bard looked like he wanted to protest, but he knew that if he did it meant potentially losing his daughter. “Keep her safe,” he finally said.

“Dwalin, get the fastest goat,” Thorin called. Fíli and Kíli rose, helping to lift Sigrid up and hurry her to the goat that Dwalin brought. Once Thorin mounted, they put Sigrid in front of him. He cradled her in such a way that kept her secure in his arms. With a nod to Bard, the King under the Mountain dug his heels into the goat’s sides and took off back down the side of the mountain towards the gates of Erebor. He knew that Dwalin wouldn´t be far behind with the others. 

Dismounting, Thorin carried the human woman into the mountain with little effort, despite the injuries she had healed him from. The sound of his boots against the stone was all he could hear echoing off the walls as he carried her down a few corridors until he could hear the rush of the springs. 

Stepping into the hot springs cavern, Thorin quickly found the steps that led down into the hot springs pool. Stepping down the steps, he immersed himself in the hot water, tingling across his cold skin. He lowered himself further to allow Sigrid to be submerged more. Moving to a deeper part of the springs, he had to swim more until he reached a ledge he was able to rest against with his arms around the girl. He let her head fall back to his shoulder, keeping her submerged in the water. He saw a gentle glow start within the water around her.

“Uncle!” Kíli called as they raced through the mountain. Dwalin led the pack that included Bard, Tauriel, and Gandalf into the room where the hot springs were.

“The glowing, is it normal?” Thorin questioned, looking at Bard.

“Yes,” Bard said, moving to kneel down and slip into the water himself. Thorin handed Sigrid over to the bargeman, watching him cradle her to his chest, stroking the dark blonde hair that had loosened from her braid and was now fanning over the surface of the water. “The magic is healing her, the heat allowing her body to absorb it faster. She will need to rest.”

“Tauriel,” a melodious voice spoke. “Come.” The dwarves turned to look at Thranduil as he looked to his former Captain.

“I am not leaving,” Tauriel snapped, her anger from earlier over his intention of leaving the dwarves to die overcoming her.

“I am not suggesting that,” Thranduil said. He looked at Thorin. “I think the guest quarters within the mountain for non-dwarven dignitary would be best for the girl to rest, aye?”

Thorin nodded, realizing what Thranduil was intending. “Aye,” he said. “Be careful along the walkways. I do not know what may have collapsed near those quarters due to the dragon. If you can not reach them, the royal wing has tall enough ceilings to accommodate the height of all. Set up the king’s quarters for her.”

Thranduil nodded, looking at Tauriel then at Kíli and Fíli. “Are you well enough to assist us in bringing in blankets my healers are gathering to bring here for her?”

“Bilbo and I shall assist,” Gandalf said. “It would be better for Kíli and Fíli to remain here, perhaps submerge themselves as well to allow the water to finish what it started through her hand. And it will calm her to have the heirs of Durin so near.”

“I believe there will be much to explain,” Thranduil noted.

“Once she is resting and in dry clothing,” Bard said. Thranduil tilted his head before leading Tauriel, Gandalf, and Bilbo out of the chamber.

“What is she?” Dwalin asked, kneeling beside the large spring as Fíli and Kíli took Gandalf’s advice and slipped into the water. Wading over to Bard’s side, still standing on a ledge so he would not need to tread water, Fíli reached up and used the edge of his torn sleeve to gently wipe the blood from Sigrid’s face with the water.

“She is my daughter,” Bard said, his voice hoarse and defensive.

“She is more than just your daughter,” Thorin said gently. “I saw what happened to Fíli. I know the wounds I sustained, what obvious wounds had befallen Kíli. We should be entering the Halls of Waiting while our kin mourn us, yet here we are, breathing and healed.”

Bard watched the dwarf, his eyes shifting to his nephews and Dwalin before looking down at Sigrid’s pale face that was gaining some much needed color again. “She is my daughter,” he whispered. “But she wields a power I do not understand. Small wounds she was always able to heal with the aid of water. It calls to her, speaks to her. She can use it for whatever she wishes, though it seems to work best when needing to heal. And it gives her visions. Something showed her Ravenhill, demanded she go there. I do not know why. Perhaps she saw your deaths and did not want them to come to pass. I can not say, not until she wakes and can speak for her actions herself.”

“She brought me back from death,” Fíli said quietly, his fingers moving through the loose locks of Sigrid’s hair in the water. “I should not be here.”

“There had to be some life still within,” Bard said. “The water must’ve told her or she would not have attempted to save you by risking herself.”

“She should not have risked her life for my own,” Fíli said. “If Uncle had not gotten her here in time, I do not think I could ever forgive myself for being responsible for her death.”

“Sigrid makes her own choices,” Bard said, holding her close. “Despite being told you were gone, she used a speed I have only ever seen her use once to get to your side.”

“Da,” Sigrid croaked, her eyes slitting open.

“There’s my darling,” Bard said gently. “Rest yourself, my lovely one. Let the water work its magic against you.”

“Are they safe?” she whispered.

“They are, dove,” Bard said, stroking her back as he held her. “You saved them, sense them here, they are in the water with you.”

Thorin skirted along the ledge to stand closer to Bard, reaching out a hand to rest it against Sigrid’s back. “We are here, dear lady,” his deep voice rumbled. “We have much to thank you for, but just rest and heal yourself now.”

“Uncle Thorin is right,” Kíli said from near Bard’s shoulder as he stood beside his brother. “Rest and we will talk later.” Eyes fluttering, Sigrid succumbed to the much needed rest as the water began to glow brighter, the magic healing her.

## 

♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦

Once Bard, and Gandalf, were satisfied that Sigrid was healed enough to be removed from the springs, she was quickly bundled and taken to the quarters that Thranduil, Tauriel, Gandalf, and Bilbo had prepared in the visiting dignitary wing of the mountain. Thankfully the stone in that wing had not been touched by the dragon and the stone walkways leading to the wing were solid and strong, allowing them to easily take the girl to rest. Tauriel had shooed the males out of the room, even Sigrid’s father, to help get her into warm, dry clothing that Hilda had brought from Dale when she had been fetched by one of the elves. While Tauriel was tending to Sigrid, those who had been in the water with her also changed into dry clothing. Kíli, Fíli, and Thorin, in particular, wanted to shed the clothing that was covered in their blood.

Tauriel was just slipping out of the bedroom of the suite Sigrid had been put in when the four males returned in dry clothing. Gandalf had cleaned the dirt from his face, as had Bilbo, while Thranduil had removed part of his armor. The rest of Thorin’s Company had joined them, the sitting room bustling with activity and noise.

“Keep your voices down, she is resting,” Tauriel reprimanded them.

“She is?” Bard asked once more. “Comfortably?”

“Yes,” Tauriel said. She looked to where Bard’s other children were standing, the youngest clinging to her brother. “Perhaps her siblings can join her, the bed is certainly big enough and they look exhausted.”

“A good idea,” Hilda said, walking over to Bain and Tilda. “I brought some spare clothing for them. I’ll take them into the bedroom where they can clean up a bit before joining Sigrid as she rests. I’ll stay with them while you all talk, but do keep it down so as not to disturb them.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” Bard said, his voice strained and exhausted. He tiredly rubbed his face as the woman gathered Bain and Tilda, plus the clothing she had brought to lead them into the bedroom, allowing the separating door to close behind her.

“Laddie, what happened on Ravenhill?” Balin asked Bard, his voice gentle as he looked at the bargeman.

“She healed us,” Kíli said. “Me, Fíli, and Thorin. We should be dead if not for her.”

“She has a power I do not understand,” Bard told them, his hands falling away from his face. “She always has, but this… this is unlike anything I’ve seen her do.”

“She has a unique form of magic,” Gandalf said. “She is one the Istari call a bender of the elements. In her case it is water.”

“She is not human?” Dwalin asked with a frown.

“She is very much human,” Gandalf said, leaning on his staff. “But she is a powerful human and one tied to the line of Durin.”

Thorin frowned. “How?” he questioned.

“Every element bender is often destined to be tied to a race or a family line, though they may not always know who that is or what is needed,” Gandalf explained. “More often than not, the bender lives their life normally, wielding a unique power. However, it would seem that in Lady Sigrid’s case, it was more.” He looked at Bard. “What happened before you brought your daughter to Ravenhill?”

Bard sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. “She… had a vision, I believe,” he said. “She acted as if she was being dragged and then in pain. She spoke, but only two words. I had to shake her from the vision and that’s when she told me to take her to Ravenhill.”

“What two words did she speak?” Gandalf asked.

“Go,” Bard said, lifting his eyes. “Run.”

Fíli stiffened. He flickered his gaze to Thorin, Dwalin, and Bilbo before he looked at Bard. “That’s what I said when Azog had me just before he stabbed me. I said it to Uncle Thorin, Dwalin, and Bilbo where they stood watching.”

“Has she ever experienced visions before?” Gandalf asked.

“Occasionally, but not of that level where she had such a vacant look because she was completely overcome by one of the visions,” Bard said. “The last time it happened was about eight years ago. She claimed at the time that someone hit her across the head with a club of some sort, but she was alone doing laundry while I was on the dock below with Bain and Tilda.”

Fíli frowned. “A club? Could it have been a log of some sort?” he asked.

Bard shrugged, shaking his head. “I do not know, as I said, she was alone and there is nothing that could have even fallen to make her think someone had attacked her,” he said. “Why?”

“About eight years ago, I was hit in the back of the head pretty hard with a log while training,” Fíli explained. “I was knocked out for a day from it.”

“Coincidence,” Thranduil said.

“I doubt it,” Gandalf said. “If it had been Thorin or Kíli, perhaps, but two visions that seem to be associated with the same dwarrow is one too many to be coincidental.” He looked at Fíli. “Have you ever touched Sigrid? Skin to skin?”

“What are you implying, Tharkûn?” Thorin growled.

“Nothing that you may be thinking, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf said, his tone almost amused. Thorin, at least, had the decency to look abashed at what he had said.

“I grasped her hand to help her into the boat when we were escaping Esgaroth,” Fíli said. “Plus I am sure our skin brushed or touched at various times while I was staying at her house when they helped with Kíli’s wound, especially while Tauriel was healing him.”

“Yes, I believe our hands touched as well when she passed out food to us,” Thorin said.

“Kíli?” Gandalf asked.

“I admit I do not remember,” the younger dwarrow said. “She could have touched my skin at any point when assisting Tauriel with the morgul wound I had, or we could have touched hands when she was passing out food or clothing when we first entered her home. At that point I was too focused on my injury.”

“Why do you ask, Mithrandir?” Thranduil questioned.

“The best that I can guess, based on the few elemental benders I know of, is that Sigrid’s connected to the line of Durin, specifically Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli. However, the connection was solidified more when their skin touched. Of the three, she is most connected to Fíli, hence the strong visions that seemed specifically connected to him. And why she was able to sense that there was life enough left to heal Fíli,” Gandalf said.

“What does that mean?” Bard asked.

“It means that your daughter has secured the line of Durin,” Gandalf said. “Otherwise they would have returned to the Halls of Waiting.”

“Will she come to harm if something were to happen to any of them?” Bard questioned. “Is my daughter in danger if they put themselves in danger? What if another war breaks out? It’s obvious that something dark is shifting if those orcs attacked us.”

“Peace, Bard of Dale,” Gandalf said, straightening. “Do I think she will sense them in danger? Possibly, the connection is there. Do I think her life is in danger if something were to happen to them? No, I do not.”

“Unfortunately this turn of phrase is inevitable, but we are sailing uncharted waters at the moment with this ability your daughter has,” Thranduil said.

Bard’s mouth quirked slightly as he sat straighter. “I do not want her treated differently because of this,” he said.

“That is unavoidable,” Gandalf said. “But not because of her powers. You are going to be looked to now to take your role as the true heir of Girion and leader of Dale. This will make your children royal and taking on new duties from what they were once used to.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” Bard admitted. “I’d prefer to just focus on my daughter resting at the moment.”

“And that is what we shall all do,” Gandalf said.

## 

♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦

Many from the Company chose to leave the sitting room of the chamber given to Sigrid. Thranduil had left as well, leaving to see to his own people. Thorin had left after a brief time, intending to see Sigrid once she was awake, needing to discuss what all had happened with Balin, Dwalin, and Dáin. Kíli had finally wandered off with Tauriel, still smitten with the elleth, but he had also looked solemn. It had worried Fíli, wondering if his little brother was going to have a crushed heart to heal before the night was done. He hadn’t wanted to leave Fíli alone in the room, but the older brother had waved him off.

Sitting for hours, Fíli had stared into the fire burning in the fireplace, thinking of how he should be dead, his body being prepared to lie in state before being encased in tombs of stone while he sat in the Halls of Waiting with his forebears. Yet here he was, all due to a lovely human girl who had taken he and his kin into their home, despite the dangers it had brought her and her own. A lovely human girl that seemed to be connected to him and had a power to bring him back from the brink of death.

Rising after so long, Fíli stretched tight muscles before slowly opening the door into the room where Bard’s children slept. He frowned when he saw that only Tilda and Bain lay on the feather bed. Hilda was curled in a chair, a soft snore slipping from her lips as she slept, obviously exhausted. He turned his head and saw the crack in the door to the bathroom. He hesitated before walking over to it. He was afraid if he entered he would find Sigrid in a very compromising position, even if she was simply relieving herself.

He heard the sound of water moving, and carefully peaked his head in. Thankfully she was not submerged in the large stone tub, instead sitting along the edge with her legs dangling into the water. He saw smooth expanse of knee where her shift and robe were resting along the tops of her thighs to not get wet.

“The water focuses me,” she said quietly. “I heal better when connected to it. It chases away the nightmares.”

Realizing that she knew he was there, he pushed into the bathroom more and walked over to the tub, his own feet soundless against the surprisingly warm stone. Once the stone had begun to take on the heat from the fire, it held it easily. When he had removed his boots, had hadn’t felt the need to put them back on to walk in the room.

“I do not mean to disturb,” Fíli finally said.

Sigrid glanced at him, her hair a cascade around her form. “Join me?” she questioned softly.

Fíli stepped onto the ledge of the tub and rolled his pant legs up to above his own knees before sitting beside her. With his shorter limbs, only his feet dangled in the water, unlike her own legs that were submerged almost up to her knee. He noted a soft smile tug at the corners of her lips when she noticed.

“You have quite the ability,” Fíli said. “We are forever in your debt for what you did.”

Sigrid looked down at her fingers, brushing the calloused pad over a ragged nail. She had little to no scarring, Fíli noted, and wondered if it was due to all the work she did in water; cuts healing as fast as they happened. 

“I felt the moment you were stabbed,” Sigrid whispered. “The feel of Azog’s fist holding you near the neck, the words you cried out, when the blade pierced your back and chest, then the rush of wind as you fell, until there was horrendous pain. Then nothing at all.”

Fíli frowned, looking at her profile. The delicate features were achingly beautiful. To his kind, she seemed overly young because of the smooth cheeks, but his own dealings with the race of Men so often over the years showed him the maturity that came so much sooner for their short-lived race. Still quite young even by her own people’s standards, barely over the age of majority if she was even that, he had seen the depth of wisdom and age within those blue-hazel eyes of hers when they met. Watching her now, he could see that the depth also involved the weight of the magic she could wield. 

Reaching out his hand, he rested it on top of hers, letting a thumb brush over her knuckles. “I am sorry you had to feel that,” he said quietly.

“I am sorry you had to go through it,” Sigrid said, glancing at him sideways. She focused on the ripples of the water, increasing them as she moved her legs within the stone tub. A single tear slipped along her cheek, glowing lightly as it went. 

“Sigr--,” Fíli started.

“I couldn’t let you die,” she said, her voice hitching. “Any of you. Your king, your brother, you.”

“My uncle,” Fíli said quietly. Sigrid turned to look at him, a question in her eyes. “Thorin is my uncle.” He gave a sad smile. “As hard as that is to realize when you saw how he treated Kíli and I when at your home, he is, in fact, my uncle.”

“But he--,” Sigrid started.

“I know,” Fíli said quickly. “We didn’t realize it then, but he was succumbing to gold-sickness, as my great-grandfather had before him. Maybe even my grandfather as well. He overcame the sickness before we charged out of the mountain into battle.”

“I am so sorry,” Sigrid said quietly.

“Do not be,” Fíli said. “You give us a chance we otherwise would not have had. We did not have time to heal from the situation with the gold-sickness before uncle was bringing us to the battle that was on our doorstep. Had we not survived as it was obvious we would not, we would have died with much unsaid between us. There are many wounds that need healed, not just physical, amongst the three of us.”

“They can be now,” Sigrid said.

“Thanks to you,” he said. Sigrid shifted her hand until their palms were pressed together, interlocking their fingers. A soft glow formed between their palms, creating a warmth that flowed through them both.

“What was that?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. She looked at Fíli. “Maybe the connection I heard Gandalf say. The one that let me feel you in danger.”

Fíli looked at her more, seeing the shift of blue in her eyes. His mouth quirked at the corners. “You should go back to get some rest,” he said.

“Can… can we just stay here for a bit longer?” Sigrid asked. “I feel… at peace here. With you and the water.”

Fíli squeezed her hand before shifting closer and bumping her side gently. “Of course.” Contentment and peace was found for them both as the water helped to soothe them. Whatever connection Sigrid had with him helped him to feel the water’s soothing effects washing over him. It would take time to know what this all meant, but for now he would be content with his new lease on life and the woman beside him who saved him and his kin.


End file.
